Happy New Year - J.Hughes ✨
Pairing: Jack Hughes x Y/N
Warnings: a little angst, a little fluff
Authors Note: this is my first Jack Hughes fic, it’s been in the vault for ages and I finally finished it! Felt fitting to have a little Christmas/new year fic as my final fic of the year! Let me know what you think 🫣 requests are open, but might take time cos life with 3 month old twins is busy! 😅 feedback is appreciated!
I know the exact second Jack Hughes is about to walk through the front door.
It’s not the sound of his car, half the time he borrows Luke’s anyway, but it’s the shift in the air. The house changes. It always has, like it knows him.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the living room floor of my parents’ house, back against the couch, pretending to read while my mom and dad argue quietly in the kitchen. They think I can’t hear it, they’re wrong. I always know when they’re fighting, and Jack knows it too. He’s known since we were kids, when he’d show up with a hockey stick and an excuse to steal me away before voices got sharp.
The door opens, right on time.
“Y/N?” Jack calls, already halfway inside like this place belongs to him.
“It’s called knocking,” I say, not looking up.
He laughs, it’s the same as his mom’s laugh, warm and unfiltered, and drops his keys in the bowl by the door “your mom said I don’t have to”
I finally glance up, and there he is. Same boy I’ve known forever, just taller, broader, famous in ways I still can’t fully wrap my head around. His hair is messier than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. His eyes, evergreen, always changing, always familiar, flick over me, quick and assessing.
“You okay?” he asks. There it is. The thing he’s always been able to do…read me without asking.
He raises an eyebrow at that answer.
He nods, satisfied, and flops down next to me like this is still 2013 and we’re twelve years old and nothing complicated exists yet. His knee bumps mine, casual, unthinking. It still sends a spark up my leg, traitorous and familiar all at once.
“So,” he says, stretching the word out “you busy?”
I close my book “Depends. Are you about to ask me to help you avoid going home?”
“Wow,” he grins “you really do know me”
I’ve always known him. I know when his birthday is without checking my phone. I know Quinn’s dramatic opinions on every girl Jack’s ever dated. I know which jokes will make him laugh when he’s exhausted and which silences mean something’s wrong. I know when he’s lying, he smiles too easily, like he’s trying to convince himself. I also know he has a girlfriend, which is why I don’t say yes right away.
“Isn’t your girlfriend in town?” I ask carefully.
The smile falters, just a fraction. Most people wouldn’t catch it but I do.
“Yeah” he says “she’s… yeah, she’s around”
Around but not here and not with him.
“Then shouldn’t you be with her?” I ask, keeping my voice light, casual, like it doesn’t matter.
Jack shrugs, leaning back on his hands “she’s out with friends”
“With you” he says, like it’s obvious, like it’s always been obvious and my chest tightens.
Every time I try to fall for somebody else, I end up right back here. On the floor, next to Jack, looking just over the invisible fence between us and wondering if today’s the day he finally notices what’s been standing in front of him his whole life.
I look at him. His eyes are darker now, thoughtful and serious “you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”
Because that’s the thing about Jack Hughes, he knows everything about me too. He knows when I’m mad I can’t hide it. Knows when I’m spiralling because I get too quiet or too loud. Knows my parents’ fights, my bad habits, my soft spots. He’s seen every version of me, from scraped knees to broken hearts. And still, somehow, he doesn’t see this.
We sit there for a while, not talking, the way only people who’ve grown up together can. His shoulder presses into mine. Comfortable, familiar but dangerous.
“You wanna go for a drive?” he asks eventually.
He grins, that boyish grin I fell for before I knew what falling was “anywhere”
I hesitate. Just for a second and then I nod, because the truth is, I’ve always been his. I’m the girl next door and maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll finally notice.
The car smells like Jack. Clean laundry, winter air, and something faintly sweet I can’t identify. I’ve sat in this passenger seat a thousand times, feet on the dash when we were younger, arguing over playlists, stealing fries from his cup holder. Tonight, I keep my hands folded in my lap like this is new territory.
It’s not, but it feels like it might be.
Jack drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. The streetlights flash over his face, lighting him up in pieces, jaw, cheekbones, eyes focused straight ahead. He’s quieter than usual.
“So,” I say, because silence has always made me nervous “how’s New Jersey?”
He hums “Cold, loud and busy”
“Yeah,” he agrees “different”
We stop at a red light. He glances at me, quick, like he’s checking something. Like he’s making sure I’m still here.
“You’ve been home a lot lately” he says “didn’t you say you were thinking about moving?”
“I don’t know,” I say instead “this place still feels like… home.”
Jack smiles at that, a real one this time “Yeah, it does”
The light turns green. He drives on. I think about how many versions of us exist in my head. Us at eight years old, sitting on opposite sides of the fence between our houses, passing snacks back and forth like contraband. Us at thirteen, when his parents fought and he slept on my bedroom floor because neither of us wanted to be alone. Us at seventeen, when he kissed a girl at a party and came to me afterward, restless and unsure, asking why it didn’t feel like he thought it would.
He looks over immediately “Yeah?”
I shake my head “just—are you happy?”
The question hangs between us, heavier than it should be. He exhales through his nose “that’s a loaded question”
“No, it’s okay,” he cuts in gently “I just…I don’t know. Hockey’s good, life’s good, I should be, right?”
“And your girlfriend?” I ask, hating myself for it.
His jaw tightens, just a little “She’s great,” he says automatically then pauses “We’re…figuring stuff out”
I nod, staring out the window. The houses blur together, all different, all the same.
“I know Quinn doesn’t like her” I say before I can stop myself.
Jack snorts “he doesn’t like anyone I bring home”
“I know,” I say “but he really doesn’t like her”
He laughs, shaking his head “You’re unbelievable”
I smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. That’s the problem. I know too much. I know him too well. I know when he’s lying because he laughs like that, too quick, too loud. I know when something’s wrong because he fills the space instead of letting silence sit.
He pulls over without warning, parking near the old park down the street from our houses. The one with the busted swing and the faded paint. We sit there, engine idling.
“You remember,” he says suddenly, “when we used to sneak out here at night?”
“Yeah,” I say “you swore it was haunted” I tease.
He grins “Still am” The smile fades as quickly as it comes.
“Y/N,” he says quietly “can I ask you something?”
“Why do you never date anyone for very long?”
The question feels like a spotlight.
“I just haven’t met the right person” I say carefully.
He nods, but his eyes stay on me, searching, like he knows there’s more.
“I always thought” he says slowly “that whoever you end up with is gonna have to be someone who already knows you, like really knows you”
I laugh softly “Good luck to them”
His gaze flicks to my mouth, then away “yeah” he murmurs “lucky guy”
Something inside me twists. I don’t want to force it. Don’t want to look desperate. Don’t want to be the girl who ruins things just because she’s tired of standing on the sidelines but sometimes I wonder what it would take. Would he have to catch me in the window changing? Would I have to spell it out? Would I have to say I’ve always been yours out loud for him to finally hear it?
Jack clears his throat “You okay? You got quiet”
I look at him, really look at him. The boy who knows my tells. The man who still doesn’t see the whole picture “I’m okay” I say “I just…throw riots sometimes in my head”
He smiles softly “yeah, I know”
And the worst part? He does.
The Hughes’ house at Christmas is chaos in the best way. There are lights everywhere, wrapped around banisters, lining doorframes, blinking in the windows like the house itself is breathing. Music hums low in the background, something old and cozy, and the kitchen smells like sugar cookies and whatever Ellen Hughes has had in the oven all day.
This place has always felt like home, which is why it hurts a little more tonight. I spot Jack the second I walk in. He’s across the room, unmistakable, dressed in a dark sweater I’ve definitely seen before, because I helped him pick it out. His arm is slung loosely around his girlfriend’s shoulders, and she’s laughing at something he says, head tilted up toward him like she’s earned that spot.
My chest tightens “Y/N!” Luke’s voice cuts through my spiral, and suddenly he’s right in front of me, grinning like Christmas came early “you made it”
“Like I’d miss this” I say, smiling back.
Luke pulls me into a hug, easy and familiar. He’s always been like a little brother to me, annoying, sweet, protective in his own way. He spins me once, dramatic as ever.
“You look nice” he says “Jack’s gonna—”
He stops himself. I raise an eyebrow “Jack’s gonna what?”
Luke clears his throat “Nothing, ignore me”
Too late. We drift toward the kitchen, talking over each other like we always do. Luke steals cookies off the tray, I swat his hand away, he retaliates by stealing my drink and declaring it “better now that it’s his” Normal. Easy. Safe.
I don’t notice Jack watching until I feel it. That prickle between my shoulder blades. The sense of being seen. I glance up, and there he is, eyes locked on us from across the room. His jaw is tight, his arm is still around his girlfriend, but his attention is very much not on her. Something flickers in his expression.
Then I hate myself for thinking it.
“Come on” Luke says, tugging my wrist lightly “you promised you’d help me beat Quinn at that stupid card game”
“I promised no such thing” I gasp, laughing lightly.
He pulls me toward the living room, laughing, and I don’t resist. I’m laughing too and for a moment, I forget about the knot in my chest, forget about Jack’s girlfriend, forget about everything except the fact that this has always been my place.
Jack’s voice. Sharp. Too sharp, making us both turn. Jack stands a few feet away, his girlfriend beside him, brows drawn together like she already knows something’s wrong but doesn’t know what to call it yet.
“What?” Luke asks “we’re busy”
Jack’s eyes flick to where Luke’s hand is still looped around my wrist.
“Do you need to be holding her like that?”
Luke blinks “dude, what?”
I gently pull my hand back, heat crawling up my neck. “it’s fine, Jack”
His eyes snap to mine “it doesn’t look fine” he says.
The room feels quieter. Or maybe it’s just me. His girlfriend shifts beside him “Jack,” she says softly, “what’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer her. He’s still looking at me, like he’s trying to read something he’s suddenly afraid he’s missed.
Luke lets out a short laugh “Relax, she’s basically family”
That’s when Jack finally looks at his girlfriend and something breaks.
“I need some air,” she says, her voice tight. She steps away from him, brushing past us without another word. Jack swears under his breath.
Luke looks between us, realisation dawning “Oh,” he says. “Ohhh. That’s, yeah, I’m gonna go find Quinn”
He disappears before either of us can stop him. Now it’s just me and Jack. Christmas lights blinking. Music humming. The house that has always known us holding its breath.
“What was that?” I ask quietly.
Jack runs a hand through his hair, restless “I don’t know”
“You don’t know why you snapped at Luke when he did nothing wrong?”
He exhales sharply “I don’t know why but him touching you bothered me”
The honesty knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Jack” I say carefully “Luke and I—”
“I know,” he interrupts “I know it’s nothing”
“Do you?” I ask “because it didn’t sound like it”
He looks at me then, really looks at me. His eyes are darker, stormy, searching for answers he’s not ready to hear “I don’t like the idea of someone else—” He stops himself, jaw tightening “forget it”
“No” I say softly “finish it”
He doesn’t. Instead, he laughs under his breath, bitter. “God, I’m such an idiot”
I take a step closer before I can talk myself out of it “Jack…you have a girlfriend”
“I know,” he says immediately. Too immediately.
“And you don’t get to look at me like that,” I continue, my voice shaking just a little “if you’re choosing her”
He swallows “I didn’t choose her, not exactly”
The words hang between us, dangerous and electric.
“Then why does it feel like you’re always choosing everyone else but me?” I whisper.
His breath catches. For a second, just one, I think he might say it. Whatever it is. The thing we’ve been dancing around for half our lives but instead, his girlfriend reappears at the edge of the room, eyes glassy but composed.
“Jack,” she says “can we talk?”
He looks at her, then at me and the choice he doesn’t make tells me everything.
“Yeah,” he says quietly “ yeah, I’m coming”
He hesitates, just long enough to hurt.
“I’ll see you later” he adds.
I nod, even though my chest feels like it’s splitting open “yeah,” I say “Merry Christmas”
He watches me for another heartbeat, like he wants to memorise my face then he turns away and I’m left standing in the house that feels like home, wondering how something so familiar can suddenly feel so far away.
I don’t mean to be alone with her, it just…happens. The house has thinned out a little, people drifting toward the backyard fire-pit, others packed into the living room around a too-loud game. I’m in the hallway near the bathroom, staring at a framed photo of Jack and his brothers as kids, when I hear my name.
I turn. She’s standing there, hands folded in front of her like she’s trying very hard to stay calm. Up close, she looks tired, not angry, not dramatic. Just…worn.
“Hi,” I say “are you okay?”
She lets out a short breath “can we talk?”
My stomach drops “sure” I say, even though every instinct in my body is telling me to run.
She gestures toward the empty guest room, and we step inside. The door stays open and somehow that makes it worse.
“I’m not trying to start anything,” she says immediately “I just need to understand something”
Her eyes flick over my face, searching.
She swallows “how long have you been in love with him?”
The question hits like a slap.
“I—” My voice catches. I clear my throat “I’m not”
She studies me for a long moment “Please don’t lie to me,” she says quietly “I can tell when people are lying. Jack smiles when he does, you don’t”
That almost breaks me “I would never do anything with him,” I say, too fast “I haven’t and I wouldn’t, he’s your boyfriend”
She nods “I know that, this isn’t about cheating”
“Then what is it about?” I ask.
Her shoulders slump just a little “It’s about the fact that I’ve been dating him for a year, and I still feel like I’m standing on the outside of something that’s already full”
Guilt curls in my chest, heavy and sharp.
“You know his family,” she continues “you know his moods, you know when something’s wrong before he says a word. Tonight, when he got upset…” She shakes her head “that wasn’t about Luke”
She steps closer, voice lowering “He looks at you like you’re the answer to a question he’s afraid to ask”
“I didn’t ask for that” I whisper.
“I know” she says softly “that’s the worst part”
Silence stretches between us.
“I’ve tried,” she says after a moment “I really have. I told myself I was being insecure. That everyone has a girl best friend from home. But then I watched him tonight. Watched his entire mood change because of you, I can’t be with someone who’s in love with someone else” she laughs weakly “do you know how hard it is to compete with someone who feels like home?”
I shake my head “I’m not competing”
She meets my eyes “you don’t have to”
That lands harder than anything else.
“I love him,” she says “but I think he’s been loving you longer than he knows”
Tears sting my eyes, and I hate that I’m crying in front of her. Hate that this hurts her. Hate that it hurts me.
“I would step back if I could” I say “If that would fix it”
She gives a sad smile “that’s the thing, I don’t think it would”
Footsteps sound in the hall. Voices. The party creeping back in.
She straightens, wiping under her eyes “I’m not mad at you,” she says “I just needed to say it out loud, to someone who would understand.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper but it feels insufficient.
She nods “me too” before she leaves, she pauses at the door “for what it’s worth,” she says gently “if he doesn’t figure this out soon, he’s going to lose more than one of us”
I sink onto the edge of the bed, heart pounding, hands shaking. I’ve always known Jack better than anyone else but tonight, I wonder if knowing him is the very thing that’s going to cost me everything.
I don’t realise Jack is in the hallway, not at first.
I’m still sitting on the edge of the guest bed, staring at my hands like they might explain how I ended up here, how loving someone quietly for half your life can feel louder than shouting when it finally starts to spill. The party noise swells again outside the door, laughter, music, someone yelling about dessert.
“I didn’t know she was still in there”
Jack’s voice comes through the noise making my heart stutter.
“She needed a minute” his girlfriend says. Her voice is steadier now, too steady “Jack…we need to talk”
I freeze, I shouldn’t listen to this, I should walk out.
“I know,” he says “I was gonna—”
“No,” she interrupts gently “You weren’t”
“I saw you,” she continues “Tonight, with her. And before you say it, no, I don’t think you cheated, but I do think you’re lying to yourself”
Jack exhales sharply “She’s my best friend”
“I know,” she says “and that’s the problem”
My chest tightens. I shouldn’t be listening but I can’t move.
“You don’t look at me the way you look at her” she says “you never have. I kept waiting for it to change”
“Do you love her?” she asks.
“You don’t have to say it,” she says softly “I can hear it in the silence”
I press a hand to my mouth.
“I love you,” she continues, voice breaking just a little now “but I’m not going to be the person who stands between you and the girl who already has your heart”
Jack swears under his breath “this isn’t fair”
She lets out a sad laugh “You grew up with her, your family loves her, you light up when she walks into a room. What part of that is fair?”
“I think,” she says quietly, “that you’ve always been hers. You just didn’t know it yet”
That’s when the door opens. I look up just in time to see her and Jack standing there, frozen, eyes wide and haunted.
Jack doesn’t move for a long moment, then he steps into the room.
“You heard that” he says.
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once like a caged animal before stopping in front of me “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I laugh, breathless and shaky “Tell you what, Jack?”
“That you—” He stops, swallows “that I mattered like that”
“You’ve always mattered,” I say “You just never asked the right questions”
His eyes search my face, desperate now “I didn’t know”
“I know,” I whisper “That’s what hurts”
“I didn’t choose her,” he says again, like if he says it enough it might fix something.
“But you didn’t choose me either” I say. “not when it counted”
“I needed you to notice,” I continue, standing now, voice trembling but steady. “not when you’re jealous, not when you’re losing something. I needed you to notice when choosing me was still simple”
He steps closer “I see you now”
I shake my head “that’s the problem. It’s too late for ‘now’”
His eyes shine, and it guts me that I’ve never seen him like this before. Like he’s realising the cost of something he’s taken for granted his whole life.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says.
I smile sadly “Then you should’ve stopped me from being the girl next door”
Silence stretches between us—heavy, irreversible.
“I think,” I say finally “I need space. Just for a little while”
He nods slowly, like the words physically hurt “okay”
I move past him, pausing at the door.
“I’ve always been yours,” I tell him gently “but that doesn’t mean I’m waiting forever”
Then I walk out into the cold night air and into a future that finally belongs to me. And behind me, Jack Hughes stands in the house that feels like home, realising too late that home is something you choose, every day.
Quinn finds me on the back steps. I should’ve known it would be him. If anyone in that family knows how to read a room without interrupting it, it’s Quinn Hughes. He doesn’t ask if he can sit, he just does, lowering himself onto the cold wooden step beside me like he’s done it a hundred times before. We stare out at the snow-dusted yard in silence.
“You okay?” he asks eventually.
I laugh softly “you ask that like you don’t already know the answer”
Another pause. The kind that doesn’t feel awkward but the kind that feels earned.
“You know” Quinn says, hands clasped loosely between his knees “Jack’s always been bad at naming things and acknowledging his feelings”
I glance at him and offer an unamused laugh “that’s one way to put it”
“He feels first” Quinn continues “then he panics and then he pretends he doesn’t feel at all, it’s easier for him that way, he’s scared of getting hurt”
“I told him once” Quinn adds “that the worst thing he could do was assume the people who love him would always stay just because they always had”
My throat tightens “I don’t want to be the reason he lost someone” I say quietly.
Quinn turns to me then, expression gentle but firm, the kind of expression an older brother would give “you’re not”
“I do” he says “because if it wasn’t you, it would’ve been something else. A different wake-up call. You’re just the one who mattered enough to finally make him listen”
I pull my knees closer to my chest “I asked for space”
“I meant it,” I say “I can’t be someone’s almost-choice anymore”
He smiles faintly “Y/N, you’ve been family since we were kids. I’ve watched you put Jack first in a thousand quiet ways he never noticed. You don’t owe him your patience anymore”
I swallow hard “then why does this still feel like I’m breaking something?”
“Because,” Quinn says softly “you’re not breaking it. You’re refusing to hold it together by yourself”
The back door creaks open behind us.
“Hey,” Quinn says easily, standing, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder “I’m gonna go check on Luke before he burns something”
He pauses, then looks at Jack “Don’t screw this up”
And just like that, we’re alone. The cold bites at my fingers, but I don’t move. I don’t give Jack the first word. If he’s going to fight for me, he’s going to do it without being invited.
“I ended things” he says finally.
“Tonight” he adds “For real. No maybes. No dragging it out”
I breathe out slowly “Okay”
“That’s not all,” he says quickly, like he’s afraid I’ll stop him “I talked to Quinn. And Luke and, God, I feel like an idiot for needing everyone else to say it before I could hear it”
I turn to face him now. He looks wrecked. Honest. Terrified.
“I’ve been choosing you my whole life” he says “I just didn’t know that choosing nothing else was still a choice”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me” he continues “Or trust this. Or even say yes. But I can’t stand the idea of not fighting anymore”
I stand. Jack steps closer immediately, hands fisting at his sides like it’s taking everything in him not to touch me.
“I don’t want you because you’re familiar” he says “Or because you feel like home. I shouldn’t want you, you’re my best friend, it’s so cliché and what happens if it doesn’t work but I do want you, I want you because when you walked away, it felt like I lost my compass”
Tears sting my eyes “Jack”
“I know your parents’ fights don’t scare you as much as silence does” he says “I know when you’re mad you go quiet, and when you’re hurt you joke. I know you throw riots in your head when you don’t know how to ask for help”
“I know you” he finishes “and I want to keep knowing you. Out loud. On purpose.”
The world feels very still.
“You hurt me” I say honestly.
“I know,” he says “And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving I won’t again”
I search his face for hesitation. There isn’t any.
“For once,” I whisper “I need you to choose me even if I walk away again”
He nods immediately “Then I’ll follow”
That’s what does it. Not the words. Not the history. Not the love that’s always been there. The certainty.
I step into him. Jack exhales like he’s been holding his breath his entire life as his arms come around me, careful, reverent, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he holds too tight.
“so, I’m not the girl next door anymore?” I murmur into his chest.
He presses his forehead to mine “No,” he says softly. “You’re the one I’m choosing.”
And for the first time in half my life, I believe him.
Jack doesn’t kiss me right away. That’s how I know it matters. We’re still standing on the back steps, his arms loose around me, like he’s giving me space even now, like he understands that choosing me also means letting me choose him back. His thumb brushes my wrist, tentative, grounding.
“Can I?” he asks quietly.
The question nearly breaks me, but I nod. He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away. I don’t. When his lips meet mine, it’s soft. Unrushed. Like he’s been practicing this moment in his head for years and doesn’t want to get it wrong. His hand comes up to my cheek, warm against the cold, and something in my chest finally, finally settles.
It doesn’t feel new. It feels inevitable. I kiss him back, a little surer now, and he exhales into the space between us like he’s been waiting for this breath his whole life. The kiss deepens, not desperate, not hurried, just honest. Present. Real.
When we pull back, our foreheads rest together.
“I should’ve done that a long time ago”
“Maybe,” I say “But I needed you to do it now”
His smile is slow, reverent “I’m not going anywhere”
The back door swings open.
We jump apart like teenagers caught doing something illegal.
Luke stands in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth hanging open like he’s just witnessed a historical event.
“You KISSED,” he shouts “Quinn. QUINN. IT HAPPENED.”
“I hate you” Jack groans, rubbing his face.
Quinn appears behind Luke, calm as ever, until his eyes land on the two of us standing too close, smiling too much.
“Well,” he says mildly “took you long enough”
Luke spins back to me “I knew it. I’ve been saying this for years”
“You’ve also been wrong about literally everything else” Jack mutters.
Luke gasps “That hurts coming from a man who just realised he was in love with the girl next door after twenty odd years”
Quinn steps outside, pulling the door closed behind him. “So,” he says, folding his arms “We good?”
Jack looks at me. I squeeze his hand “Yeah”
Quinn nods once, satisfied “Good, because I refuse to mediate another emotional disaster in this family”
Luke grins “Do I get to say ‘I told you so’?”
“No” Jack and Quinn say in unison.
Luke ignores them “I’m gonna say it anyway”
Jack turns to me, eyes soft despite the chaos “You okay with…all this?”
I glance between the brothers, the house glowing behind us, the boy I’ve loved for half my life standing right in front of me, choosing me out loud.
“I think,” I say “I’ve waited long enough”
Jack smiles, real, unguarded, and laces his fingers through mine.
“Good,” Luke says “because mom’s gonna cry about this”
Quinn sighs “she already knows”
Jack groans “of course she does”
And for the first time, instead of wondering if I belong here, I know I do.
Jack Hughes falls in love like he’s afraid time might run out.
I realise this on New Year’s Eve, when my phone buzzes at 11:07 p.m. with a text that simply says:
I smile before I even answer.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.
Of course I don’t. There’s a knock on the door twenty minutes later, impatient, familiar, unmistakably Jack. I open it to find him standing there in a black coat, hair slightly damp from snow, cheeks flushed like he ran instead of drove.
“Probably,” he agrees “but it’s New Year’s, and I didn’t want to start it without you”
My heart stutters “Jack, it’s almost midnight”
“I know,” he says softly “that’s kind of the point”
I grab my coat and we’re out the door before I can overthink it, the quiet street glowing with leftover Christmas lights and frost-dusted sidewalks. Somewhere down the block, fireworks crack early, impatient. We end up at the old park. Of course we do. The same one we snuck into as kids. The same broken swing still creaks in the cold wind. Jack pulls a thermos from his coat pocket like he’s been planning this for days.
“Champagne” he says proudly “Luke tried to steal it, Quinn told him to grow up”
I laugh, breath fogging in the air “You really thought this through”
He shrugs “I didn’t want this year to end without doing things right”
We sit on the hood of his car, shoulders pressed together. My phone ticks down the minutes, the seconds, the world holding its breath.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
“I used to hate New Year’s,” he admits “It felt like pressure. Like I was supposed to be someone different by midnight”
“And now I just want to be honest,” he says “With you. With myself”
I turn to face him. “Okay”
“I’m not good at small gestures,” he continues “I do everything all-in or not at all and I know I messed up before. I know I took too long”
I lace my fingers through his glove-covered ones.
“But I want this year, and every year after, to be intentional,” he says. “No guessing, no almosts, no assuming you’ll wait”
My throat tightens “Jack…”
The countdown starts somewhere nearby. Voices echo through the cold.
“I don’t just want you,” he says “I choose you”
He cups my face gently, like he’s still making sure I’m real.
His lips meet mine right as the world erupts, fireworks cracking overhead, cheers ringing out across the neighbourhood. The kiss is warm and sure and full of everything we didn’t say for years.
When we pull back, foreheads pressed together, Jack laughs softly “Wow”
“I’m never starting a year without you again” he says.
I smile “Careful. That sounds like a promise”
“Good,” he replies “I keep those now”
Luke’s voice cuts through the night.
We turn to see Luke and Quinn standing halfway down the block, champagne bottle in Luke’s hand, Quinn already shaking his head.
“You couldn’t wait twenty more seconds?” Luke yells. “I missed the kiss”
Quinn sighs, looking at us “I told you this would happen”
Jack groans “Can you not make this weird?”
Luke grins “Oh, I’m absolutely making this weird. Its romantic”
Quinn looks at us, then nods once “Feels right”
Jack squeezes my hand, unbothered now. Certain. And as fireworks fade and a new year stretches open in front of us, I realise something important: For the first time, loving Jack Hughes doesn’t feel like waiting.
